


Anxiety Anthem

by dirtylittlesecret



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Biting, Dirty Talk, F/M, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 10:58:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtylittlesecret/pseuds/dirtylittlesecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine you're in a bar..and a certain face walks in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hello.

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 3 Cheers is released, but Gerard still has drinking problems and the band is relatively still small. Unbeta'd.

In a bar one night, just casually hanging out before a show and having a few drinks and the bar is pretty desolate, and you hear the door clang open a few times, and male laughter which sounds rather slurred and is then joined by a few other voices murmuring and more laughter, and you glance up a see 3 men, and a woman whose is on the arm of one particularly lanky man wearing glasses. A guy in a black hoodie and sagging jeans collapses at the bar, pushing his greasy as fuck hair back and announcing loudly to the bartender in a slurred, slowed voice that he would like 3 beers please and 3 tequila shots for the little lady, to which the girl clinging to Lanky's arm, grins and says "Shut up, princess, it's totally for you". You tilt your head ever so slightly, trying to figure out where you've seen the guy from, without staring at him; you catch glances of his face, still obscured mostly by the black mess of hair  
You covertly watch them take their seats at the bar, the last of them, a rather short dude with a fauxhawk, takes a seat two down from you, and you stare intently into your drink like it has the answers of the universe, tugging nervously down on your batman shirt, as you hear them chatter, you catch bits of names but without looking up you have no idea who is who. You hear a ‘Frank’, and ‘Alicia’, who is obviously the woman, and your mind ticks. You've definitely heard those names before, and you check your phone. It’s only 5, so you've got 2 more hours to the show. You hear them muttering about the Chaos, the place you're going and you're filled with a sense of dread. Don't let these drunks be in the pit, for the love of god, someone will get their face pulled off. You spare a glance at Greasy Hair, and smile to yourself. Perhaps not, drunk or not, he looks like he'd feel remorse at killing a fly. You catch his eye as he glances at you for a moment, as he speaks about fucking vampires or some shit, and you hold eye contact for a few seconds, before 'Alicia' notices and glances in your direction, an eyebrow hitched as she nudges Lanky, next to her. You drop your eyes to your drink once more, finishing the remnants, before ordering another, giving you an excuse to be here.  
Greasy Hair complains about the heat, before pulling off his hoodie, showing a black graphic shirt with 'mcr' sprawled on it in red and Fauxhawk giggles. "We totally can't afford for you to steal our merch you sweaty shithead. We take like, half our profit from that." Greasy Hair just grins, before standing up and staggering to Fauxhawk, "You want me to wear the same shit, Frank? Smell this fuckin' shirt, I dare you, asshat." You hear pushing noises and you glance upwards, seeing Greasy trying to push 'Frank's' head into his armpit, laughing drunkenly. The 'fight' ends with Frank saying 'okay okay, you fuckin dirty bastard, take our merch, man just don't wear that shirt anymore." Gerard hiccups and laughs, forgetting his old seat, and just plopping down one seat from you. You can't help but wonder if he just heard your sharp, but quiet gasp.  
He's in your peripheral version, and you're in his, and you take a quiet chug of your drink, setting it back down. All your movements seem louder now, as if just projecting just how alone you are, compared to this group of drunks and friends. Your mind is still ticking over the names, you're so close to figuring it out, when Greasy Hair knocks back his tequilas so suddenly you can't help but look, and you catch his eye as he finishes the last one and he winks at you, dropping the glass back down with a 'thunk'. He giggles as you grin, and he turns to face you. His friends are now conversing between themselves. "So, what're you doin' here?" He stutters out, tequila making his words slow, and heavy, his voice much deeper than before.  
You smile at Greasy Hair and tell him you're just hanging around, before a show at Chaos, and you ask him what he's doing here, and he just grins, big and wide, and turns to his friends, "Hey guys, this chick- uh, is going to the Chaos..for a show" he speaks the last 3 words with emphasis, his voice deepening and his friends all turn to you and smirk, Frank just giggles.  
Lanky pipes up, asking "so...who are you gonna see at Chaos?" and Alicia clings to him even more as she obviously keeps her laughter in. Your cheeks turn a dark red, as you reply.  
"This, uh band. My Romantic Chemical or something. And I’m doing a review-” Greasy twitch at the band’s name and Frank lets out a snort, spilling his drink over his already-stained shirt. Greasy leans in towards you, and asks,  
"My romantic chemical? Never heard of them before...what kinda review you doin', honey?”   
You glance back down at your drink, taken aback at the 'honey', and murmur out "for this magazine, uh, a rock review for upcoming bands, I've only heard one or two of their songs, so I don't-"  
Greasy smiles, interrupts and says "What did you think of the songs?" Words tumbling out fast, and excited, the alcohol slurring them slightly. You shrug at him, murmuring out an 'alright' and it's like you just kicked a puppy, apparently, all their faces are now looking rather upset, except Lanky's unreadable expression, and the tension is thick. You decide to elaborate, since they appear to be fans of the band.   
"I mean, it's different and kinda cool, I only listening to two so I don't really know what all their music...It was one called...Honey, This Mirror...some really long title...and the other was Demolition Lovers, I think? That one was pretty cool. Real emotional." The sun shines out of Greasy's eyes when you praise the song, and Frank sits up, smiling at you. "This chick, man. Emotional shit, then? Gerard here-" He nudges Greasy, and finally you know his name. Gerard. "Really into that emotional shit. Thinks Demolition is all about him and his ex."  
Lanky obviously can't help it and spits out a little of his drink, Alicia hand hits the bar as she laughs loudly, and Gerard just looks down, cheeks flaming as he mumbles  
"It totally is, fucking christ, Frank."  
You let out a little huff of laughter at Frank's comment, and look at Gerard again, smiling. "So you guys…like the band?" Frank bounces on his seat at this, grin wide, "oh yeah, I'm like their total number one fan. But-" His wristwatch beeps, and Frank glances down at it. "Oh shit, guy's we're late". Gerard, Lanky, Alicia and Frank all go to stand up and you check your phone. Its 6 so you guess you should go to the venue, and start reporting. You stand up with them and Gerard throws you a shy smile.  
"Wanna walk with me?" You smile and nod, grabbing your bag off the back of the stool, and walking out with them.   
"So...are you guys going to see them too?" Gerard smirks and looks down, before nodding, "you could say we are." You all reach the venue quickly, it being only a few doors down from the bar you were all in. Frank, Lanky, and Alicia disappear through the doors, after speaking quietly to the bouncer. Gerard stops with you outside, and turns to leave.   
"Wait...aren't you guys gonna queue...How did they all just walk in?"   
Gerard shrugs and just says "We know the owner" and smiles like it's a private joke you're not in on. Gerard goes to leave, before turning back to face you, "Maybe I'll, um, see you after the show?" he asks, you shrug and say "yeah I guess so" and he beams like you just agreed to raise his children, and does a dorky little hand wave as he walks back in.   
By this point you are right outside the venue's doors, and several younger girls are staring at you. "Did you just speak to fucking Gerard?" one of them asks you, her hair jet black like Gerard's but far too neat and clean, her eyeliner smudges as if on purpose, you seem taken aback, "Uh, yeah, I did?" She literally steps back, as if you just admitted to a murder, "Fuck! Fuck, guys, she just spoke to /Gerard/" She emphasizes his name, and all the teenagers look up to you in awe. "What’s he like?" By this point you are deeply weirded out. "Why? I mean...Do you know him or?" The girl stares at you. "Do I fucking- Are you kidding me?" You look at her, your face blank. "Gerard Way. Seriously? He fucking sings in the band." Your brain jolts. Frank. Frank Iero. Rhythm guitarist for My Chemical Romance. Lead singer, Gerard Way. Fuck. Fuuuuuck. You just insulted the band to the band. Fuck. "That was the lead singer?" Your voice stutters, and before the girl answers, your watch beeps, announcing the show, and in that same moment, the bouncer taps your shoulder, and asks for your ticket, or are you buying at the door?   
You shuffle into the venue, taking your place by the barrier, before telling a security guard on the other side, you're here for Kerrang!, doing a review, and he helps you climb over the barrier, and you sit down on one of the boxes by the side of the stage. Shit, what the fuck. Lanky is on the stage, tuning his fucking bass guitar, as he turns and his eyebrows raises at the sight of you. He lets out a nod. Mikey Way. Lead singer's brother. Bassist. Fuck. The girl must have been Alicia Simmons, also bassist, but more of a roadie to the band. Thank fuck for the packet the editor sent full of info of the band. Frank and a taller man soon accompany him on stage with their guitars, the barrier behind you now bustling with people, and you make conversation with two girls pressed up against the barrier, and you tell them how you got to be this side and no you can't get them this side or help them meet the band you're simply doing a review, but they smile anyway and say they hope you enjoy the show. Gerard walks out, now dressed in a suit, with a red tie, and a white, already-sweated-through shirt, before grabbing the microphone. Then the show really starts.  
You watch as Gerard prowls around the small stage, spitting out lyrics with such venom and angst you wouldn't believe he was the guy at the bar, blushing as his friends made jokes about him. You get out your notepad and start making notes. 

_"MCR playing a dirt cheap club for probably little pay is a band that is definitely up and coming. As I sit infront of the barrier that's vibrating with bass, I can't help but sway even a little to the screaming and rhythmic guitar solos that so obviously drive the fans wild, and for good reason. Guitarist, Frank [Iero] attempts to dive into the crowd during several songs, like Our Lady of Sorrows, and the crowd's so far favourite of the night, Helena. Front man Gerard [Way] embraces the passion the kids throw at him, and return it threefold as he sings about drunk driving, dying too soon, and ex-lovers. As the anxiety anthem "I'm Not Okay (I Promise), brings the night to a raucous close, it punctuates a night of prices and personal anthems of the times and lives of those in attendance, soundtracks so powerful they'll ring like tinnitus long into the night, on the lonely ride home. Way and Company leaves the stage heroes, and the identical individuals all leave the venue making plans to go and buy some black make-up and grow their hair long."_

You flip shut your notepad as the band leaves the stage, the crowd dispersing, and the room now hot and stuffy and filled with angst you could feel in the air. You go to leave through the open fire exit, until a bouncer grabs your arm, and roughly tells you the band invites you back stage. You seem surprised, but go anyway, making your way to the small room that smells like sweat and beer, and is filled with laughter and empty beer bottles. Gerard looks up as you enter and smiles wide, and gets up to greet you. Frank beats him to it and bounces high and in your face, asking   
"So what did you think? Was it cool? Did you like it? If you don't leave a good review you won't leave this room!" Presumably his girlfriend laughs, and tells you to not mind him, he's just high off the show, and you smile and nod, and say the review is very good and Kerrang! will be sending you guys’ magazines of when it is printed next week. They all beam and begin chattering as Gerard makes his way to you in the small room,   
"Do-Do you wanna go outside for a bit? Quieter." Frank lets out a wolf whistle and Gerard gives him the finger as he walks out with you, stuffing his hands back into his pockets as you walk out the fire exit.   
"So did you really like it?" You smile and nod,   
"Yeah it was awesome, I mean. When I noticed you were on stage, it kind of blew me away." Gerard giggles, "Your face."   
He pulls out a cigarette from his pocket, and lights up, before offering you one. You shake your head.  
"So where’s next for you guys?" Gerard shrugs, "We don't have anymore shows planned, but our flight isn't until next Saturday, so yknow." You nod; leaning against the wall, looking out into the near empty parking lot, save for a flash-looking tour bus.   
"So if you guys, I'd say you're just a few weeks from really being noticed." Gerard smiles and turns,   
"Really?"   
"Yeah, I mean, I review bands all the time, and you guys are something else." Gerard beams, "If it wasn't for this...I'd be into comics right now, I mean, this band, it's really something." He seems more articulate now he's sweated out most of the tequila he drank before. He puts out his cigarette on the wall, and gestures to the tour bus, "Wanna see?"  
You nod and walk with him to the bus, as he fiddles in his pockets with the key and opens the door for you, a smell leaving the bus which is not unsimilar to that of the club. Even though, the bus inside is rather nice, the label dished out quite a bit for it. You follow him to the back of the tourbus as he shows you the living room part, the kitchen, the bunk beds and then at the very back is his bed, and part recording booth. He tells you he kinda plays guitar but not very well. Knows enough to play just bits of it, and that's when he gently takes a hold of your hand as he turns to face you, his smile softer.  
You smile back at him as he leans in and softly kisses you, his other hand cupping your face, and you go to wrap your arms around his hips, as the kiss quickly turns into a heavy makeout when his tongue slips inside your mouth with such confidence, and you can taste the tang of the tequila, and you hear him kick the door shut behind you, as he pushes you down onto the bed, not-so-smoothly following you down as you grab onto his hair as you kiss him harder, feeling him rut against you like a teenager,  
You reach down to hitch down your jeans as he goes to unbutton his, "Not enough time for foreplay," he apologetically mutters, a small smile on his face, and you shrug and say it’s okay, as you kiss him again, feeling him take over your hands as he pulls down your jeans, moving to sit in-between your legs, as he pulls your thigh up so you wrap your legs around his lower back, and he pulls you up, pulling your jeans the rest of the way off, and you tackle his sweat-stiff shirt, to feel at his skin, pulling the buttons off harshly, as he pulls off your jacket and shirt, mouths never leaving each other’s for more than a few seconds, and then you're both naked, and fuck, he just slides right in to you, as he makes a low keening noise, and bites your neck, leaving a big love bite as you moan, rutting downwards as he slides home, before he just pulls you up and pushes you back down on his dick;.  
He repeatedly bites at your neck; in-between whispers in your ear, "Fuck, yeah, be as loud as you want, fuck. No one around to hear, baby." And you let out a louder moan, almost a scream as he hits your g-spot, his hand flying down to your clit to thumb at it, his other one planting firmly around your waist as he pushes and pulls you down onto him, fucking you quick and harshly.  
"C'mon, honey, you feel so good, you are so good, so fucking hot, fuck, loved seeing you at my show, getting so into the fucking music, watching you sway and I knew I had to fuck you, so pretty, and so perfect." His hand leaves your clit for a second, rubbing against where his dick fucks into you, feeling how wet it is, before bringing his hand up to his mouth and tasting it, moaning, and then pushing your hair away from your face and kissing you harshly as he pushes you down onto his dick, his hips thrusting upwards. The kiss is purely tongue and passion, less finesse and more urgency.  
He hears your moans up in pitch and his hand goes back to your clit, thumbing and pressing down on it harshly, pulling you roughly towards one of the best orgasms of your life so far, and bites down on your lip, loving your pants and moans, and much like on stage, taking your passion and giving it back threefold, fucking into you faster and harsher, whispering "So close aren't you, baby? Come on, cum for me, I want you to." And you do, you throw your head back and scream, clutching at his back, and surely leaving scratch marks, and feeling him arch towards you, moaning loudly as you do, and then feeling him thrust inside you once more and cum, panting heavily, he clutches at you, pulling you towards him and kissing you with as much passion as care, as he slips out, both his hands cradling your face as he puts all he's worth into these kisses, feeling you melt against him as the tour bus door slams shut, accompanied by the sound of laughter, and his mouth pulls away too soon, a frown etched on his face, as he mutters,  
"Wait here a second, please, honey?" and you nod, picking up the fucking feather-70's-pimped-fashioned sheets and wrapping them around you as you glance around the room, noting where all your clothes are.  
You watch him get up, and pull on his jeans without boxers, and tug on a shirt quickly, smiling at you, he steps out of the room, quickly shutting the door. You hear murmured parts of conversations, and a whoop you guess is from Frank, and then a knock on the door a few minutes later you only guess is from Gerard, and you let out a timid "come in", and watch with relief as he steps in, smiling sadly at you.  
"So I guess you're going to want to go home now? I mean, our bus can swing by yours if you wanna walk or-" And you sag, you don't want to leave, and you say if that's what Gerard wants to do then sure, and he watches you, his eyes flittering over your face mentions again how they don't have to leave until next Saturday, so if you're not busy, I mean, you could hang with them until then, and stuff, if you didn't wanna go home just yet, and you nod your head, and say "yesyesyes that'd be awesome" and he grins, wide and amazed as he leans forward and kisses you again, much softer, his hand reaching for yours as you link fingers, and you smile into the kiss.


	2. Goodbye.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The following Saturday.

After being on the tour bus now for a week, and the band is leaving for the states tomorrow, you've had plenty of sex with Gerard, but tonight feels different, the air is thicker somehow as you step into the back room, the rest of the band and their girlfriends hitting the English pubs before their 6am flight tomorrow, and you sit on the bed, waiting casually. you hear Gerard say goodbye to the last of them, laughing as he downs their pre-drinks drinks, because  
"Fuck, we ran out of fucking _pounds_ " Frank giggles, "Fucking pounds, jesus they measure money in weight." His drunk mind making him think everything is hilarious as he steps off the bus. Gerard downs the last tequila shot before walking down the hallway of the bus, gently opening technically his bedroom door, his eyes falling on you as he smiles softly. You gaze back up at him, returning the soft smile. His almost seems apologetic. He walks towards you, reaching out and taking your hands in his, and kissing your forehead, whispering,  
'I wish I didn't have to leave so soon'.  
You fight the urge to say 'so don't' but you know he has to. He’s got another tour in Japan booked now, they're so close to blowing up now, and you can't keep him back here. You smile and say 'It’s okay, when you come back, we'll hang out again'. You never really discussed what exactly was happening to you two, but you both knew it was just 'whenever he's around' deal. Life on tour is hard. He peppers kisses down the side of your face, before slowly pressing his lips against yours, as he moves to kneel down so you're both at the same height. You didn't imagine the first time a boy went down on one knee in front of you, it was him saying goodbye. The kiss slowly grows in intensity as he pushes you back onto the bed, before clutching you and pulling you on top of him as he rolls onto his back. you share heated breaths as his fingers clutch the bottom of your shirt, well it's his, but you'd taken to wearing his sweaty clothes because they smelt like him, and the dives he'd played in. you both watch his hands as they slowly pull the shirt off, your eyes connecting back to his as he casts it off, staring at him as you unbutton his shirt, as he props upwards so you can pull it off his arms. You kiss him once. Softly. his hair this time is washed, and not greasy, but his breath still tastes and smells like alcohol, and a small part of you registers it as self-destructive, that you hope he'll get better and not be another tragic too-soon rockstar death. You show this to him in your kisses that follow the soft one. They become desperate and your hands cling to his hair, and you try and say all you can't in them, that you hope he's okay, you hope he gets better, that he meets someone who will take care of him, that you adore him. He returns the sentiment, his returns the kisses, his tongue slipping into your mouth; half-thought words tumble out messily  
'I’m sorry' 'don't' 'you're so wonderful' 'Honey’.  
Soon, each of you begin the task of pulling off your jeans, as you sit there, straddling him in just your underwear and bra, and him in his boxers. It feels like all you need, to just lay here, kissing. That actually saying goodbye is much worse than this, that'll fill you with pain and make you numb at the same time, and you don't want to hurt him, you can't because he can't get any worse with his drinking. You know already of his past suicide attempts that his manager foiled. you convey your love for him as you slowly pull off his boxers, and he pushing his hips up, lifting you upwards, almost a crude imitation of sex, as you pull them off, and you can't help it as a single tear falls down your cheek, and he brushes it away with his thumb, pulling his mouth away for a moment, his eyes still shut as he whispers  
'I know, it's okay' but his voice cracks and it's not okay, at all, but you both continue to pretend.  
You feel one of his now-wet cheeks press against yours, and you can't help it, you press your hips down, anything to make the hurt stop, but his arms are around your back, and he stops you from doing it again, whispering that he doesn't want to rush this, he doesn't want to make you feel like you're some groupie that he doesn't care about, and you shake your head, your hair falling down and blocking your view from anything but him, and you wonder how any boy can be this beautiful, but broken, that the two can't mix and he's not beautiful for being broken, but beautiful for admitting he is, for knowing that when he goes to japan, he doesn't expect to come back, he doesn't want to go back to states if it means you won't be there, and he just doesn't care he doesn't, and all of these words tumble out of his mouth with a cracked voice, so close to the edge of crying, and you kiss away his tears, murmuring you will try, you will be anywhere he is, you want to but you can't just disappear with him to japan, and your shoulder rack with sobs as you do this and his arms smooth up and down your back, calming you as he presses desperate little kisses to your mouth, each one a different letter, nearly spelling out goodbye, and you cup his face, deepening the last kiss, showing him goodbye doesn't mean forever, that you will always be around for him, just a phone call away, and he accepts it, his hands now holding onto your ass, pulling you closer to him, as he pushes up his hips, both of you now done with the tears and the not-goodbyes, as the kisses turn deep, and passionate. you reach down and pull off his boxers on an up-thrust, as his hands tuck into your underwear, and pull it down, and you kick it off unceremoniously with your leg, casting it off somewhere into the room, his hand wondering up your spine will the other one stays at the bottom, rubbing small circles with his fingers as he undoes your bra, and lets you slip it off, without breaking your kiss. Neither of you stop, as you grasp his dick, and slowly sink onto it; you just gasp into each other's mouths, as he bottoms out, both your eyes squeezed shut as you feel him lift you up and sink you back down onto him. His hand moves from where your bra was, and goes down to stimulate your clit, rubbing it back and forth at the pace of the thrusts, slow and gentle as he bites down on your lip, letting out a whining noise. both your cheeks are still wet from the tears but neither of you care, you fumble to wipe his away and let out a sad laugh as you just feel another tear seep from your eyes, and you watch him open his eyes slowly as he thrusts in again, watch him stare into your eyes, then flitting down to your mouth, as you pant and let out small moans, he whispers something about lighting a candle, ambiance, and you shake your head and whisper s'perfect already and he smiles sadly and kisses you again, anything to stop talking for a while as the way he lifts and drops you onto him slowly gains speed before he sits up, pulling your chest close to his, as he thrusts with his hips, before changing the position and in contradiction to his now-deeper and harsher thrusts, gently lays you down on your back, so he can hit your g-spot in the most perfect way. You let out a higher moan, your hands clinging to his soft hair, and you hate the feel of it, how dry and soft it is when you're so used to the grease, and you remember how when you first saw him you called him Greasy Hair in your mind, and you whisper and tell him and he huffs out a small laugh, saying he thought you'd like it washed and you try to shake your head before he pushes your clit in just the right way with his thumb, your orgasm coming out of nowhere, intense and perfect and harsh. you feel him thrust into you slower as he feels you cum, and he bites into your shoulder, muffling a moan as he cums in you, his face scrunched up in that adorable way as you lean over, with panting breaths and kiss his forehead, feeling him use up the last of his energy as he cups your face and kisses you with all he can, and those are the kisses you love, the post-sex ones filled with adoration and love, where even though he's exhausted in every way, he still scrapes the last of his emotions as gives them all to you.  
He rolls onto his back, similar to the first time you did this in a bed, and pulls you close. You lay on his stomach until you feel his arms go lax and he begins to snore. You slip out of bed, slowly pulling your clothes so not to wake him, and check the time, it's nearly 3am and you know the rest of the band should be back soon. You write a small note on a piece of paper next to the bed and leave it on his bedside table next to the condoms you forgot to use. You fix your eyes, and take your gloves as you leave the room, stuffing them into your backpack as you go to exit the bus. Right at that moment, Frank walks on and throws a glance at your backpack; he gives you a small smile, his childish demeanor gone for a while as he says  
"Just...call him at some point? Please? He-you mean a lot to him." And you nod yes, and decide to leave before you start crying, but you both hear a clang at the back of the bus, and a confused noise, as you and Frank stare at the door leading to Gerard’s room, and you can't help but let the tears come out as you hear a sob, and then the clink of a bottle. Frank bites his lip and you whisper goodbye, and to tell Gerard you love him, as you get off the bus, and walk into the near-morning air.


End file.
